Let Me Tell You 'Bout my Best Friend
by AmayaSora
Summary: A series of drabbles about the HouseXWilson pairing.
1. Piano Man

**A/N This is my first House fanfic, so don't be too hard on me. But I would like honesty, so tell me what you really think. That being said, I live off of reviews.**

**_DISCLAIMER:_ I don't own House, M.D, or any of its wonderful characters.__**

**-AmayaSora**

Dr. Gregory House was halfway through a slow, somber piece when a knock sounded on his door. He frowned and continued playing, hoping whoever it was would go away. A second series of knocks began, forcing him to increase the volume of his playing. When the third knock began, he slammed the last note angrily; there was no point ignoring it, the mood of the piece had already been ruined.

He limped over to the door and swung it open. "What do you want?" he barked, at the same time seeing Wilson standing in the hallway, holding a small luggage bag.

As House moved to admit the oncologist, Wilson said, "We had another fight… and I got kicked out again."

"And all the local hotels are full?"

"No…" said Wilson slowly. "I just assumed I'd be able to stay here like I usually do." When House didn't respond, Wilson ran a hand through his hair. "So... you're saying that your couch isn't open for me anymore?"

"Nope," said House, heading into the kitchen. "But my bed is."


	2. Pancakes

**A/N: I'm finding these very easy and fun to write; I hope you also enjoy reading them :) I also really hate the title of this fic but it was the best thing I could come up with. If any of you have any suggestions I'd love to hear them. I'd also really like to hear your opinions on this story, so generally, I'd love reviews. **

**_DISCLAIMER:_ I don't own House, M.D. or any of its characters. **

**-AmayaSora**

Pancakes

Morning sunlight filtered through the blinds as the red numbers on the alarm clock blinked angrily. Wilson groggily reached out to hit the button, than sat bolt upright. 8:30! He should have been up hours ago!

He got dressed in record time, stopping briefly to run a brush through his hair in a familiar bathroom. Only then did he remember that he'd stayed at House's place again last night. Not that he minded.

Wilson was planning to grab a cup of coffee to go, but was utterly dumbfounded when he walked into the kitchen to find all the dishes done, the trash taken out, and, most surprisingly, a plate of pancakes and bacon sitting ready for him. They were still warm, which meant that House had only just left.

Smiling to himself, Wilson figured that for once it wasn't so bad that he was going to be late for work.


	3. Biker Boys

**_DISCLAIMER:_ I don't own House, M.D. or any of its characters. **

**-AmayaSora**

Biker Boys

Wilson crossed his arms, then uncrossed them, and crossed them once more, fidgeting with nerves. He ran a hand through his hair as he said, "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"No, I think it's a terrible idea. That's why I suggested it," House quipped, checking the gauges on his motorcycle.

"And why _did _you suggest it again?"

"Because I thought it would be fun," the diagnostician handed a helmet to Wilson, who blinked at it but didn't put it on.

"For you or me?" he asked, inspecting the helmet for signs of damage.

"Mainly me. Hearing you scream like a girl is just irresistible." Seeing Wilson's face, House turned to face him. "I'm telling you, you'll enjoy it."

"Somehow that makes me more nervous," the oncologist laughed weakly.

"I bet you'll love it. Seriously, I'll bet you…what, sixty bucks?" House reached for his wallet.

"No, it's fine. You're usually right."

"Usually? Just for that I'm speeding."

"House!"

"Fine, you big baby. Just get on." With that House put on his own helmet and maneuvered himself onto the bike.

"Am I going to regret this?"

"No, but I might if you make me miss the game. Now get on."

Sighing, Wilson shakily swung his leg over the bike. When he was as settled as he was going to get, House turned the ignition and the motorcycle sprang into life. Shouting to be heard over the engine, Wilson informed House, "I don't like this!"

"That's because we're not moving yet! Wrap your arms around me!" House shouted back.

Wilson placed his hands on House's hips. As the bike started moving, Wilson gasped and squeezed House tighter, his hands fully around the other's midsection. Exiting the parking lot, House sped up again, this time getting Wilson to squeeze his eyes shut and press his face tightly against House's back.

Smiling to himself, House thought, _I was right; I _am _enjoying this. _With that he grinned evilly and increased his speed again


	4. That's Why

**A/N: Sorry for the delay, but I've been insanely busy lately. At any rate, this short is written in second person. I don't like second person very much, but I'd never tried writing it. I figured I should see how writing it feels before I decide if I like it or not... which I still don't. Hope you enjoy, and please leave a review. :)**

**Season 4 starts in three weeks!! I'm so excited I can hardly wait.**

**_DISCLAIMER:_ I don't own House, M.D. or any of its fantastic characters. **

**-AmayaSora**

That's Why

You're in a somber mood, and as relaxed and pain-free as you're likely to get from a dose of Vicodin, so you decide that tonight is going to be a classical night as you sit in front of the piano.

Being caught up in the music, you only vaguely register that fact that Wilson has come home. As he shuffles around in the kitchen you continue your song, losing yourself in the melody.

You're surprising yourself with your stamina and continued lack of pain, so you start another piece in an effort to challenge your skills. What really surprises you is when, about three measures in, Wilson gets up from the couch to stand next to you. His fingers gradually take over for half of yours (the ones doing the easy part). You had no idea he knew the song, or that he could play the piano.

He keeps the tempo perfectly and the two of you finish on a beautiful chord. He gets up silently and heads off down the hall towards the bedroom. You call after him, "That's why."

His head, covered as always in perfectly neat brown hair, emerges from behind the wall. "That's why what? You do realize that whatever the rest of that conversation was, it happened only inside your head, right?"

"Cute," you say as you pull a face and frown. "People are always wondering why I hang out with you, other than the great sex, I mean. Well, that's why."

Wilson is confused. "You hang out with me…because I can play the piano?"

"I don't know if I'd call it 'playing.' You were out of tune a lot, not to mention the lack of heart," you say in a music-critic type voice. "But no, I hang out with you because you're never boring. Just when I think I've got you figured out, you go and do something unexpected like that. It's intriguing."

Wilson laughs. "Coming from you that's like getting a Nobel prize." He grins broadly and goes back to the bedroom.

You grab your cane, figuring you'll need in the morning, and limp after him. "Oh, and by the way, if you ever touch my piano again I'll tell the world every embarrassing thing you've ever done while I string you up by your ankles in a broom cupboard."


	5. Soft

**I'm back! I told you (if you read my fic _Mind Over Matter_) that I'd get ideas again as soon as I finished that one. **

**So, yeah. This was written at 1:31 in the morning, because I couldn't sleep until I got my writing fix. lol. **

**I think something's wrong with me, because I actually I like this one. I never like my own stories. What's going on?? **

**Anyway, I hope you like it, too. Drop me a line (in review form, if you please)!**

**_DISCLAIMER:_ I don't own House, M.D. or any of its characters. **

**-AmayaSora**

Soft

Wilson honestly couldn't help it; he was drawn to House's hair. He knew how odd that was, and entertained the idea that House was right and he really was obsessed with hair, but he didn't care all that much.

House's hair was so _soft. _Wilson had no idea how he got it that soft, only that it was. It was the exact opposite of the man himself (or the persona he put on for the world), one of sharp-tipped comments and mile-high emotional barriers. It was also natural; it didn't try to hide the fact that it was graying or thinning (or maybe House didn't try to hide it); so unlike the doctor who hid anything and everything: thoughts, feelings, fears.

Wilson supposed the hair gave a tangible reminder of the inner House, the one only he knew, and only when they were alone.

That was the first reason he sat gently running his hands through it in the middle of the night, smiling softly to himself.

Through his thoughts he didn't notice that House had awoken, at least partly. "Why are you petting me? I'm not a dog," he mumbled and shifted slightly away.

"Sorry," Wilson whispered quietly and removed his hand. A few minutes later when House's breathing became more even, he softly resumed stroking the soft grey hair.

House, still partly awake, smiled contentedly, thinking Wilson didn't, or wouldn't, notice.

But he did. And that was the second reason.

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**AWW! Isn't the ending just so sweet:)**


	6. Understanding

**Hello! Wow, it's been a while, hasn't it? I came up with some other fics, and so this got shuffled to the background. Hence the delay. But I'm back now.**

**Actually, not really. This one has been sitting in my computer for a _long _time now, since even before Paradox. I don't particularly like it, but it's the best I had, and I can't seem to come up with anything else at the moment. And I felt bad once I noticed how many of you put this story on your alerts list, so I decided I was obligated to post it. Don't judge me too harshly, please!!**

**Speaking of judgements, anyone fancy leaving a review? **

**_DISCLAIMER:_ I don't own House, M.D. or any of its characters. **

**-AmayaSora**

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Understanding

House met Wilson at the elevator for lunch like he always did. The other doctor entered the elevator without even a glance and remained silent all through the ride. When they were in line and House couldn't stand it anymore, he demanded, "What's the matter?" 

"Nothing," Wilson mumbled, grabbing an apple out of the basket.

"No, something is definitely wrong. You just grabbed an apple; you never eat apples, and now you're reaching for cake," he said as the oncologist put a large piece of chocolate cake on his tray. When nothing happened, he reached out with his cane and tripped his friend, causing him to spill his entire lunch all over the floor.

"House!" yelled Wilson. "What was that for? You know what, never mind! I don't think I want to hear your crazy rationalization for that complete jackass move. I'm not even hungry," he muttered as he stormed off to a table.

Minutes later House joined him, precariously balancing two trays of food, his own traditional Rueben and a plate of Wilson's favorites from the cafeteria line, in his cane-free hand.

"Now will you tell me what's wrong?" the diagnostician asked between bites.

"No," said Wilson harshly. "I'm tired of being one of your puzzles. You'll just have to use your brilliant skills of deduction to find out."

"Fine then. I guess you won't be going with me to the bull riding exhibition," he said smugly, brandishing a pair of tickets. "Tim McGraw's performing a concert there, too, and I know he's your favorite."

Wilson blinked a few times and then broke into a wide smile. "Wow. I guess I was wrong. You _do _know me pretty well."

"Is that the reason you were upset? You sound like a fifteen-year-old girl, you know that?" he added condescendingly.

"Yeah, it was pretty stupid, wasn't it?"

"_Yeah!" _House nodded emphatically, mentally noting that he was extremely likely to get lucky tonight. He asked himself, did Wilson _really_ need to know that he'd been listening at the door during the conversation with Cuddy when he had voiced those fears? House decided that no, he didn't, and proceeded to take a fry from his friend's plate.


	7. The Janitor Quip

**Hello! **

**This is a brand-new one! Yay! This is inspired by last night's episode, and contains some spoilers. So if you haven't seen it (I think it's called Ugly) you might not want to read.**

**But, if you did see it, please leave a review! I'm not 100 happy with this, but I think it's okay. Not great, but okay. Your thoughts?**

**_DISCLAIMER:_ I don't own House, M.D. or any of its characters. **

**-AmayaSora**

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The Janitor Quip

House burst into Wilson's office as usual; that is, without any regard for the fact that Wilson was with a patient (and a crying patient at that). He addressed the woman, "Great, you know the diagnosis. Now you can leave." He opened the door at pointed to the opening with his cane.

The woman started sobbing harder, grabbed the entire box of Kleenex off of Wilson's desk, and ran from the room, taking no notice of Wilson's apologetic smile.

"House," Wilson began.

"What the hell is your problem?" the men said in stereo.

"What's _my _problem? I'm not the one who just kicked a hysterical woman out of her doctor's office!"

"Don't change the subject. Mommy said it's my turn to talk."

There was a pause, in which Wilson crossed his arms defensively. "What did I do now?"

House thumped his cane emphatically and gave Wilson an incredulous glare. "How can you stand there and ask that? '_Fire her, than ask her out!' _Do you know what happened? She left here _crying! _Now any chance I had is completely gone!"

Wilson tried unsuccessfully to hide his smirk. "I didn't mean in the same sentence," he said, and he couldn't stop the smirk from turning into a real smile.

"Like hell you didn't! I bet you wanted her for herself, didn't you? You probably called her up and told her what a bastard mean old House is, and '_don't worry, Jimmy's here, it'll be alright._' Now the whole team thinks I'm a heartless ass!"

"They already thought that," Wilson quipped and smiled triumphantly. His tone became much more serious. "And, for your information, I haven't spoken to her at all, nor do I plan to."

"Then why would you tell me to do that? And don't tell me you didn't know what would happen!"

Wilson spoke quietly. "Because of your little janitor quip."

"Why would that bother…" House trailed off as he suddenly understood. "Oh. That was a joke," he said firmly.

"Not a very funny one," Wilson said.

"Well, I'm sorry," House said sincerely. Wilson looked rather unconvinced, and House sighed. "God, you're like a woman, so _emotional _and everything." But House then smiled. "But it's okay, I love you anyway."

Wilson looked up, asking himself if House had actually said the l-word. The look on House's face was enough to prove it. "Love you, too," he responded.

"Good. Now that that's settled, come buy me lunch."

Wilson rolled his eyes and grabbed his wallet.

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**A/N: Just FYI, I really liked the episode. The storyline itself wasn't all that good, but I _loved_ that we got to see a different side of House, one where he actually showed his emotions. He seemed really human, you know?**


	8. Telephone

**Hello, all. This one I wrote almost immediately after I posted the last chapter, but I wanted to wait before posting it, so I could get some reviews for that one. **

**I'm really sorry about the title, which is even worse than they usually are (if that's possible). But I didn't want to give away the plot through the title. So I hope you'll forgive me. :) **

**_DISCLAIMER:_ I don't own House, M.D. or any of its amazing characters. **

**-AmayaSora**

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Telephone

Wilson was lying on the bed in his hotel room, desperately hoping that he would actually be able to get to sleep. The bed wasn't all that comfortable to begin with, and with his back hurting like it did now (he had no idea how that had happened… oh, wait, it was when he vaulted over the wall separating House's and his balcony.) sleep seemed pretty much impossible.

Not to mention that nagging sense of worry he had. He just felt it in his gut that something bad was going to happen… and that it would involve House. He hadn't liked the way House said good-bye today, he hadn't liked it one bit.

He looked over at the VCR clock. 3:30 in the morning. Great, just great. Maybe he should get up and take-

The phone rang, and he stopped thinking. Completely, actually, so that the next thing he knew he was on the other side of the room and had the phone in his hand. It turned out he actually had to think to talk, so he shook his head to clear the fuzziness and said, "Hello?"

There was complete silence on the other end. He knew, then, that it had actually happened, House had actually gone and overdosed. Tears threatened to overflow, and he forced himself to push them back until he knew for sure.

The voice on the other line –a male voice he knew vaguely but couldn't place- spoke hesitantly. "Dr. Wilson?" A pause. "It's about Dr. House. He-"

Wilson did start to cry then, and before long the person on the other end joined him. Between sobs, Wilson managed to choke out, "H-he o-o-over-er do-dosed-d, d-didn't-t h-h-he?"

And then he was rendered incapable of speech again by a new wave of tears. He barely noticed that the voice on the other end of the phone changed. "Aww, Jimmy, don't cry; he's in a better place now, one with hookers as far as the eye can see."

"H-house?!" he spluttered incredulously, thinking he'd gone mad with grief.

"The one and only," House responded, leaning back comfortably in his chair back at the hospital. "I'm touched you care enough to actually cry over me, but can you please hurry it up? I'm expecting a call from Mel Brooks, something about a movie deal."

"You're a- a c-c-complete ass!" Wilson screamed, still crying, but this time from relief and anger. House waited (somewhat impatiently, as he began to toss his giant tennis ball around) and eventually Wilson recovered normal speech (after many long minutes). "What were you thinking?! You scared me to death there!! Wait, you obviously weren't thinking!"

Across New Jersey, House smirked, and knew that Wilson would hear it in his voice. "Nope, I thought very carefully about it."

"You did this specifically to upset me!? That's a new low, even for you! I can't believe-"

"What day is it today?" House interrupted before Wilson could really get into his stride.

"March 31st, but I can't see what that has to do with anything!"

"Wrong," House's smirk returned, more triumphant than ever. "It was March 31st up until 11:59. Now, however, it is 4 AM, which makes it April 1st. Happy April Fool's Day! You're the fool, in case you didn't know."

Wilson was speechless for a minute. "This is, by far, the worst, and meanest, prank you have ever pulled on me. Scratch that. That _anyone _has ever pulled on me."

"And therein lays its brilliance." House gloated. "It's unforgettable, and no one saw it coming."

"You're an ass!! Go to hell!!" Wilson said and slammed the phone down, shaking.

Back in his office, Greg House was laughing. He tossed the promised fifty to the night janitor (a janitor that happened to be an accomplished actor and who contributed the realistic crying), who pocketed it and walked out.

_Now, _House thought, _what to do next year… _

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**This was inspired by a fic called _Damage _by Your Undoing. It has a different feel to it than mine does, because it's sad, but it's worth reading nonetheless.**


	9. One Question

**Hello! **

**I'm sorry if a lot of people didn't like the last chapter. I guess not everyone has the same sense of humor that I do.**

**BUT, here's a brand-new one, one that I'm pretty sure you'll like. This is in response to episode 4X08 "You Don't Want to Know."**

**This is also (I believe) the first of these little drabbles to be written in first person. So, we get something new: a stream-of-consciousness for House! yes!**

**I'd love to hear how I did with it...**

**_DISCLAIMER:_ I don't own House, M.D. or any of its amazing characters. **

**-AmayaSora**

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One Question

_"You always ask questions because the next one might change something and make you less miserable … If you run out of questions you'll run out of hope." _

That's what she said. How does she know me so well? She only been here a few weeks and she's already rivaling up to Wilson or Cameron with her annoying analyses. She's like Cameron 2.0, except not as useful; she won't sort my mail. 

She does have a remarkable understanding of me, though. Am I being obvious? No, I doubt it… definitely not. She just has that special oh-so-infuriating ability to read any person or situation (Kinda like me, only she uses it in a stupid way). Which is probably why she makes such a good doctor…

God, I _hate _these sleepless nights. Stupid Vicodin hasn't kicked in yet, so my mind is just rambling in circles, thinking about crap I don't care about…

Suddenly, I feel myself starting to smirk. I realize Thirteen's not all that great; there's things she doesn't know.

"Hey, Wilson. Do you love me?" I ask (he's having a sleepless night, too).

He looks me in the eyes and assures, "Of course I do." After a brief pause, he continues, "Why do you ask?"

"Proving a point."

And I did. One simple question that I can ask over and over again and I have instant (albeit temporary) happiness and hope. I'll probably be able to get some sleep, too…


	10. Valentine's

**Hello hello! I'm _so_ sorry for the _long_ delay. I had so much going on with school and church and life in general, and I had a _very _severe case of Writer's Block. I must humbly ask for your forgiveness, and hope that you will accept this short as an apology. I also hope that you will leave me a review and tell me what you think of this, my Valentine's HouseXWilson story.**

**-AmayaSora**

**_DISCLAIMER_: I don't own House, M.D. or any of its characters. **

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Valentine's

_Bzzt. Bzzt. _His pager went off, jerking Wilson out of his reverie. He reached down and pulled it off of its holder, seeing the words _CONSULT- EXAM RM 3 _scrolling across the screen.

Sighing, he got up from his desk and headed to the elevator.

However, he wasn't needed in Exam Room 3 after all, nor did anyone in the Clinic remember paging him. Slightly suspicious, he checked his pager again only to find that the number that had paged him was listed as restricted.

Wilson decided that he'd better go check his office for signs of damage (or burglary), because this had House's name written all over it.

When he got there, everything was exactly where he had left it, except for the small, crudely wrapped package placed on his chair. It was only then that Wilson remembered that today was Valentine's Day.

The oncologist picked up the present, which had a Post-it note stuck on top of it that read:

If I actually have to sign this,

you're either way dumber than

you look, or you're in big,

big trouble.

Wilson smiled to himself and carefully unwrapped the gift, which was actually smaller even than it looked. However, that didn't botherWilson at all when the white gold clip fell onto his palm. It had a fancy leaf pattern engraved on the front, but that paled in comparison to the back, which was monogrammed _GH JW _in elegant cursive script.

It was, without a doubt, the most romantic thing House had ever done. And, in typical Houseian fashion, he'd done it anonymously. But it was a touching gift nonetheless, and one that Wilson would keep close to his heart.

Literally, he thought wryly as he carefully fastened it onto his necktie, still smiling broadly.

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**I thought that the tie clip was a _very _Houseian gift, because it's simple and practical. It's also personalized but in a way that's only obvious to Wilson, so House can bear his soul without bearing it to the whole world. What do you think?**


	11. Fatal Flaw

**Hi all! The Writer's Block has disintigrated, releasing the floodwater of ideas from their dam inside my mind. See, check out that metaphor! **

**At any rate, this fic is inspired by a scene in episode 1X19 "Kids". It's a very good episode, btw.**

**-AmayaSora**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own House, M.D. or any of its characters. **

**--**

Fatal Flaw

It was 10 AM, and Wilson was studiously avoiding House as only he knew how. It wasn't as if he didn't want to talk to the man, it was more that he'd rather talk to someone else first.

Someone who'd be able to tell him why he was internalizing this so much; why something so simple was bothering him more than the life-and-death struggle of his six-year-old patient.

Someone who'd also probably tell him to quit running from the issue and just confront it head on, because he didn't want to turn out like House, did he?

He was debating talking to Cuddy about it. After all, it definitely was better than nothing, he decided, and turned around in the direction of her office.

He had gotten so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice House leaving the Clinic until he quite literally bumped into him.

"Now Jimmy, I know I'm irresistible, but weren't you the one who insisted 'not at work'?"

Wilson sighed. "Sorry. I was just… thinking about something."

"What did I say about that?"

"Are you referring to 'don't think about morals' or that you're the only one allowed to pace while thinking? Or, rather, limp?"

"Both, actually," the diagnostician fell into step with Wilson, thus foiling his plan to escape the confrontation. "I know that look, that's your deep thoughts look. What's up?"

Wilson sighed, knowing there was no avoiding the issue now. "Well, remember when we had that talk about Dr. Gilmar?" At House's blank stare, he elaborated, "Fellowship applicant. Pointy shoe woman."

"Oh, _that_ Dr. Gilmar."

"Yes. Anyway, I said that you always find some flaw to justify pushing people away, and-"

"I don't recall arguing that point. So what's _your_ point?"

"Well, you've known me for how long now, twenty years? You can't expect me to believe that you haven't found a flaw in all that time."

"Believe me, there're plenty."

"So, are you planning on kicking me to the curb soon? I need to make sure I bring a pillow that day."

"I think I'll keep you around," said House as the two men entered the elevator.

"That's good… I guess. But I still have one question. What flaws do I have? Or, no, knowing you, that list would take all day to rattle off. What is my biggest flaw?"

House almost smiled. "Your biggest flaw is that you're fundamentally _un_flawed."

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**Review maybe?**


	12. Monopoly

**Hello hello! I'm so so sorry for the long long _long _delay in posting anything new, but I was sidetracked by school work, life in general, and a gigantic Writer's Block. It's (hopefully) gone now so I can write to my heart's content. This piece is a lot longer than anything else in here, but I think that's fitting given the delay. Also, it works best at this length (I think).**

**At any rate, I'd really appreciate a review to let me know if I'm a little rusty or not. Please and thank you. **

**-AmayaSora**

**_DISCLAIMER_: I don't own House, M.D. or any of its characters. **

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Monopoly

"Oh ho! Isn't this ironic! Just like real life!"

House just glared at Wilson's triumphant smile. The pair was playing Monopoly, and it clearly wasn't House's game. His shoe piece was in jail (for the fifth or so time) and the Scottie dog that represented Wilson was visiting him. In addition to hitting Go To Jail five times, House had landed on Income Tax, Luxury Tax, Community Chest (where he had needed to pay for doctor's bills), Chance (which sent him to jail) and nearly all of Wilson's properties. The oncologist owned two of the three green properties, a monopoly on yellow, and St. James' Place. The irony _there_ was almost unbearable. Compared to House's meager three properties (Baltic and Mediterranean Avenues for the worst monopoly on the game, and Oriental Avenue), Wilson was clearly receiving some great luck. Or karma, as he tried to convince House.

Wilson continued to smile even in the face of House's death stare and calmly handed him the dice. House threw the plastic cubes unceremoniously onto the table and glanced down to find seven black dots staring up at him mockingly. Yet another turn in jail, how _marvelous_.

The diagnostician sighed. "_Why_ am I playing this stupid game again?"

"Because I asked you to?"

"Nope, don't think so. You practically _forced_ me to play by 'forgetting'(here House used air quotes) to pick up a movie."

"That was a mistake and you know it! Besides, if you really wanted a movie you would have let me go out and get one when I offered," Wilson said smugly.

"Shut up and roll the dice. Gloating's bad karma, you know," House mocked. "On second thought, gloat all you want. After all, you are winning."

"It's just a game, House," Wilson said mildly and rolled the dice. "Yes! Twelve!" Another roll, and "Twelve again! Wow, I'm on _fire_ tonight!"

"I thought it was 'just a game'," House said, a bit miffed.

"Oh, it is. But considering how you turn everything into a game, I figured they were important to you."

"I liked you better when you were gloating."

Wilson ignored that and rolled again, getting a five this time. He moved his Scottie dog the final spaces to land on Boardwalk. "Yes!" Wilson cried happily as he threw 400 Monopoly dollars at House, who was the banker.

The blue-eyed doctor handed the property card to his friend wordlessly, without meeting his eyes, and picked up the dice.

"Wait, House, you gave me two… what is this?" Carefully folded behind the card was a receipt for hotel reservations at the famous Trump Plaza Hotel and Casino right on the Atlantic City boardwalk.

House silently rolled the dice, getting a crummy two. At least it was doubles. He moved his piece and looked back up at Wilson, who was staring at the slip, speechless. He rolled again and got four. "Your turn, Wilson."

"Where did you- why- what's this for?" Wilson managed to ask.

"For vacation, _duh_." House snapped, pushing the dice closer to his friend's hand.

"These are… wow. I didn't know we were planning a vacation."

"_We're_ not. I am, and vacations are no fun alone."

"This is for… two weeks from now. Kinda short notice, don't you think?"

"No, I cleared it with Cuddy already. Roll the damn dice."

Wilson reluctantly obeyed, getting a nine but not making any attempt to move his piece. "Why wait until now to tell me?"

"Thought it would be dramatic if I could buy a hotel on Boardwalk and when you paid to land there I'd hand you the receipt. As usual, you wrecked my perfectly thought-out scheme by landing there first." House reached over to grab Wilson's Scottie and move it for him. Wilson stopped him by grabbing his hand and looking into his eyes.

"Thanks, Greg. This is… amazing. Wow, we're gonna have so much fun!"

House gave Wilson's hand a quick squeeze before pulling away. "You bet we are. We're taking this luck of yours to the casinos! Trump won't know what hit him!"

Wilson couldn't help but smile at that, and proceed to move his Scottie around the board. House handed him the 200 dollars for passing Go and picked up the dice. He threw them and rolled… a twelve. Maybe there was something to this karma crap after all…

--

**I think this is the first time I've had Wilson use House's first name. Cool.**


	13. Reminders

**Hello readers! This drabble isn't related to the last one (Monopoly), BUT don't worry I plan to write a bit about their vacation (eventually lol). This struck me randomly while I was playing tennis, and it was one of those must-write-right-now deals, which is why it's longer than I intended. I seem to be making a habit of that... sorry. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and leave a review!**

**Thanks,**

**-AmayaSora**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own House, M.D. or any of its characters. **

**--**

Reminders

Impatiently, House looked at the clock. It was only 9 pm. On _Saturday_. Which meant he had another 25 hours, 36 minutes, and 29 seconds to wait. Wilson had gone to an oncology conference in Ontario for the weekend. The _whole_ weekend, from Friday afternoon to Sunday night.

Friday night hadn't been too bad; House had been too tired to notice the absence of Wilson in his apartment. The trouble started Saturday morning when he got up to get breakfast. In the refrigerator was a box of Jimmy Dean sausages. _Jimmy_ was right there on the package, mocking him, reminding him of the conference. And that Wilson would be away for 2 more days.

Having nothing better to do, he went to the Clinic. That turned out to be a mistake. He didn't know how it happened, but every patient he saw had problems symptomatic of cancer, from the woman with the lump to the boy with the unexplained aching in his arm. He referred them to an oncologist, and after the sixth person he gave up on Clinic and decided to do his paperwork for once.

That, too, was a mistake. Not only did he have to walk past Wilson's empty office to get to his own, he hadn't realized how common the name James was. Or the last name Wilson. Or how many of his past patients had been tested for Wilson's disease.

House eventually gave up on that, too, and just went home. On the way out he spotted Cuddy heading for her tennis lesson. And wouldn't you know it, her racket was Wilson brand.

Television hadn't been the distraction he'd hoped, either. There weren't any games on, so he scrolled through channels and saw that _Castaway_ was on. And_ Home Improvement_. Those were out, so he settled for _Family Guy_. Within five minutes, however, Peter was watching a commercial for "Wilson Hyundai and Subaru." Grumbling angrily, House switched to The History Channel. That _had_ to be safe. Alas, he was wrong again, because no sooner had he began watching _The Presidents_, than the announcer said, "Number 28, Woodrow Wilson."

"God dammit!" House snarled, shutting the TV off and slamming the remote down.

This was when he'd decided to get some beer, but even that wasn't helping very much. He glanced at the clock again. 9:04. _Great_, he thought. Maybe it would be better if he'd just call Wilson, to make sure he'd done everything he'd needed to that day. But no, House had promised himself he wasn't going to bother him…. _Screw it_, House thought. _When have I ever kept a promise?_

He promptly whipped out his cell phone and speed-dialed Wilson. He answered on the third ring. "Yes, House?"

"Are you done with the stupid conference yet?"

Wilson chuckled. "Miss you too."

"Who said anything about missing you? I was asking about the conference." Wilson was silent, and after a few seconds, House mumbled, "Fine. I miss you. Now will you come home?"

"I wish I could, but I'm lecturing tomorrow. I might be able to leave a few hours early, if you play you cards right."

"How would I do that?" More silence, but House could sense Wilson's smile even from hundreds of miles away. "Oh, right. I love you."

"Love you too. I'll see you at 7 tomorrow night."

"What time does your plane land?"

"6:15."

"Then I'll see you at 6:15."

"Alright. See you tomorrow."

"You better be on time," House warned. Wilson laughed and the phone clicked closed. "I love you," he said again, even Wilson wouldn't hear him.

He closed his phone and looked back at the clock. 9:07. House sighed. He still had 21 hours, 8 minutes, and 23 seconds to wait.

**--**

**I thought maybe some of the reminders might need explanation.**

**_Castaway _is a movie where this guy is on a deserted island with only a basketball, which he names Wilson and treats as his friend.**

**In _Home Improvement,_ Tim's neighbor is named Wilson.**

**Hope that helps... I thought everything else was self-explanatory, but if not feel free to PM me. :)**


	14. Freudian Slip

**Hello again! **

**This is another rather long one, because it too wrote itself. Also, sorry for not updating sooner, but real life has been kinda hectic lately. Just FYI, I have a longer one-shot in the works, and I do plan on continuing _The List_ once things settle down.**

**Reviews are welcome and appreciated. :)**

**I also wanted to thank you all for not only reading my story, but liking it enough to add it to your Favorites lists. You guys make me feel so happy, so I dedicate this chapter to each and every one of you.**

**.****-AmayaSora**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own House, M.D. or any of its characters. **

**--**

Freudian Slip

All of a sudden, everything stopped. The debate over the differential diagnosis halted mid-phrase, the coffee pot froze mid-pour, the pen stilled mid-letter, and eight eyes snapped to the figure leaning against the white board.

House was, uncharacteristically, confused. Granted, he had been occupied with other… thoughts, during the entire conversation, but he had absorbed enough to formulate an opinion and voice it. So why did everyone have such shocked expressions?

"Hello? Am I speaking Chinese here?"

That did it. Taub snorted, Foreman raised an eyebrow, Kutner looked supremely uncomfortable, and Thirteen… her expression was bemused. "No, you spoke perfect English."

Why was there an edge of laughter in her words? "Then why the deer-in-headlights look? What is so difficult about 'Stick with Wilson's'?"

"You didn't say 'Stick with Wilson's'." She was definitely amused now. "What you said was 'Sex with Wilson'."

"No I didn't!" House snapped quickly, but his posture slipped ever so slightly into a defensive one.

"You definitely did," Foreman said, enjoying House's discomfort.

"It's a simple Freudian slip, happens to everybody," Taub added, failing at remaining completely serious.

Crap. Crap. Shit. House was becoming slightly panicked. "You must have heard wrong. I'm sure I didn't say that."

"Yes, you did," said a voice from the open doorway. Everyone turned to find Dr. Wilson standing there rather demurely.

"How would you know?" House snapped, eyes widened.

"I was walking past the door and happened to hear it." Wilson's expression, when House frantically searched it, held absolute certainty, and, to his utter relief, not a trace of anger.

The diagnostician realized that this situation had deteriorated far past any semblance of one he could control. "Those of you who still wish to be employed tomorrow," he said slowly, "would do well to leave in the next three seconds."

Four doctors left the room, highly amused.

That left only a rather pissed-off diagnostician and his chuckling friend in the small conference room. House's expression was something between anger and embarrassment as he stared blankly into space. Then, a smile broke through for half a second before his demeanor switched abruptly to "lecherous."

"So, Wilson," he drawled, sliding close to the oncologist. "Since you now know what I was thinking about…"

Wilson smiled. "Maybe tonight, House."


	15. The Photo Album

**Hi! This is a follow-up piece to Monopoly(Chapter 12). I'd love reviews.**

**-AmayaSora**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own House, M.D. or any of its characters. **

**--**

The Photo Album

"This one was taken on Day Four." Wilson pointed to a picture of House triumphantly brandishing a thick wad of cash he'd won at the casino and looking more smug than ever.

"I won five grand in four hours," House gloated from his post on Wilson's office sofa.

The pair was sharing their photos from the Atlantic City vacation they'd taken with Cuddy and Cameron. Or, more accurately, Wilson was sharing them with House reluctantly along for the ride.

Wilson flipped the pages, chatting animatedly about the places they saw, the things they did, and all of House's misadventures. House injected once or twice, and Cuddy commented on nearly every picture, but Cameron seemed puzzled.

At last Wilson reached the last picture, one of House in his nicest suit toasting the camera with a glass of brandy. "This was taken at the hotel again, on our last night there."

"How'd you get him to wear the suit?" Cuddy asked.

"Everything else was dirty." House answered for his friend.

"That explains it, then. Well, I'm glad you guys enjoyed yourselves. And thanks for sharing the pictures with us!"

"Sure, my pleasure," said Wilson as he closed the album. "Our pleasure, I mean," he corrected, but House just shrugged non-committally.

Cameron still had an odd look her face, so the oncologist smiled warmly at her. "Is something bothering you?"

"No…" she said slowly. "It's just, you didn't take any pictures of the two of you together."

"Huh, I guess we didn't. It never crossed my mind, honestly."

"Oh. Alright. I just thought it might have been for-" she glanced pointedly at House "-other reasons."

"No. We never really thought about it."

Cameron seemed happier then. "Well, thanks again for sharing. I'm happy you guys had fun."

"You're welcome," Wilson said. With that the two women left, off to some other gossip session, most likely.

House got up from the couch and walked over to join Wilson by the bookshelf where he was stowing the photo album. He reached up and grabbed another photo album, a glossy green one with "Memories" written in gold script on the cover.

"Let's look at the other one again," he said softly, returning to the couch. Wilson smiled and sat down next to him.

House put his arm around Wilson, and opened the album to reveal page after page of pictures of the two of them together.

--

**The ending is kinda bad... I'm sorry.**


	16. Lip Balm

**So this came to me in the middle of the night, and I'm honestly quite pleased with it. For one thing, its actually drabble length. And the title is a double entendre!! That and I think the entire thing is so very House. But what are your thoughts?**

**Reviewing makes me happy.**

**-AmayaSora**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own House, M.D. or any of its characters. **

**--**

Lip Balm

"Jimmy," House whined as he closed the door to Wilson's office. "I got a boo-boo!"

"Let me see," Wilson said good-naturedly. House held out his cane-free hand to reveal a tiny paper cut on his index finger. "It's just a paper cut, House. You'll live."

"But it hurts," House whined again, and proceeded to pout like a three-year-old.

Wilson sighed, exasperated. "What, do you want me to kiss it better or something?" he said sarcastically.

"Yes!" House said emphatically, and without pausing for breath grabbed Wilson unceremoniously by the tie and pulled him into a deep kiss.

Fifteen minutes later, House pulled away and said cheerily, "It's all better now!" and left the office with a slight spring in his step, leaving Wilson behind to wonder what the hell had just happened.


	17. Fireworks

**It's time for some 4th of July HouseXWilson!! I wanted to do one previously, but they never turned out right. And then came this one. It's a bit long, but I like it.**

**Do you? Please let me know either way (meaning: please review)**

**Thank you**

**-AmayaSora**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own House, M.D. or any of its characters. **

**--**--

Fireworks

House walked over to Wilson, who was comfortably ensconced on a bench reading the latest oncology journal. "Here," he said, and thrust a candy apple he'd gotten at the surrounding hospital carnival into Wilson's hand.

Wilson looked at it, then up at House, delightedly. "Thanks, House!"

House shrugged and walked away.

Fifteen minutes later, Wilson was on the sixth article of his journal when House sat down next to him, peered over at the journal for half a second, and then plopped a funnel cake piled high with blueberries and powdered sugar on Wilson's lap.

Wilson was a bit perplexed, but decided to not say anything (hey, House was being nice. This only happened once a month or so) save "Thank you, but I'm really not hungry."

House pouted. "Aww! I spent five whole dollars on that! And blueberries are your favorite!"

"Oh, all right!" Wilson grumbled. House smiled subtly and again wandered off.

In the next half hour House had brought Wilson caramel corn, a corn dog, a bag of gummy bears, and a lollipop. So, when he returned yet again and shoved a giant stick of pink cotton candy into the oncologist's hand (getting some on the journal pages in the process), Wilson decided he'd had enough. Sarcastically, he asked, "What, is this some sort of 'sweets for my sweet' thing?"

"No," House grinned mischievously. "I just want my 'sweet' to have energy! There's gonna be fireworks tonight!"

House's tone made Wilson blush scarlet and glance apprehensively around for eavesdroppers. "I'm going to pretend you said that because today is the Fourth of July."

Again, House shrugged. "Suit yourself. My way's more fun, though."

"We'll see," Wilson said, and then proceeded to take a big bite of the cotton candy.


	18. Choices

**A/N: I haven't really written any fanfiction lately, and so I may very well be a bit rusty. If I am not up to my usual standards, I ask that you keep that in mind and not judge too harshly. That being said, I am as addicted to reviews as always, lol. **

**This fic is inspired by an interview with Katie Jacobs, one of the creators of House, and the ensuing discussion on LiveJournal.**

**Love to all my loyal fans,**

**-AmayaSora**

Choices

Wilson and House were comfortably ensconced on House's sofa, pigging out on Chinese food and beer and laughing at loud at the jokes told by the comic on television. Well, House was comfortably ensconced, anyway. Wilson had something on his mind, and kept fidgeting nervously, unsure of how to bring it up.

Eventually House got fed up with it and turned to face him. "Jimmy, please tell me whatever you need to tell me before you wet yourself. I don't feel like cleaning my sofa again."

Wilson took a deep breath. "I was just wondering… you had so many people who liked you at the hospital, and yet you chose me. And I can't for the life of me figure out why."

"The boyish charm." Wilson gave him a look that said "be serious." So House sighed. "Fine, fine. Because you have something they don't. They all wanted to fix me, to fix my problems. But you want to take as much pain as you can away from me and let me fix _myself_ if I so choose. It's all about choices, Jimmy."

"And I'm glad I was your choice," Wilson said softly, kissing him tenderly on the lips.


End file.
